Tuesday 3 March 2009 15.30 EST
First published on Tuesday 3 March 2009 15.30 EST

For large parts of today, Gordon Brown's long-awaited trip to Washington seemed to teeter on the brink of humiliation. For a start, Barack Obama would be fitting him in between a visit to the department of transportation and a meeting with representatives of the Boy Scouts. Only days previously, the president's press secretary, Robert Gibbs, had caused consternation among British diplomats by referring to the special relationship as a "special partnership", which sounded rather non-committal - as if America were signalling that, henceforth, it wanted to be free to date other countries as well. And then there was the key question: would there be a full, formal joint press conference, in the traditional location, as reporters travelling with Brown had been led to believe? There would not. The White House, it soon became clear, had never actually promised him the Rose Garden.

And yet, in the end, the first day of Brown's two-day visit did not descend into embarrassment, in large part thanks to Obama's willingness to tell his visitor what he wanted his voters to hear. He said "special relationship" several times. He mentioned his own British ancestry on his mother's side (and not the fact that the British had tortured his paternal grandfather). He vowed there'd be no lessening of the transatlantic bond. He mentioned Michelle Obama and Sarah Brown in the same breath (both men, he said, had "spectacular wives"). He let the brief media encounter - a "pool spray" in the Oval Office, vastly inferious to a press conference - play out for longer than normal. And on the substance of their discussions, he unequivocally endorsed, albeit non-specifically, the prime minister's call for global co-ordination in addressing the economic meltdown. Special relationship-watchers breathed a sigh of relief.

It had always been a stretch, though, to imagine that the encounter might transform Brown's image at home, borrowing enough of Obama's magical aura to see him through another opinion poll or two, perhaps even an election. To the contrary, the risk was that our fidgety and not-especially-cool leader might seem diminished by comparison. ("In age and charm, Obama actually has more in common with Conservative Party leader David Cameron, the man who wants the 58-year-old Brown's job," the Los Angeles Times cruelly argued.) In the event, though, wedged into identical Oval Office armchairs in near-identical blue suits, white shirts and blue ties, the two seemed relatively at ease. Brown called Obama "Barack", while Obama reached across at one point to touch the prime minister on the arm. Then he stopped, letting his arm hover over Brown's sleeve, as if concerned that physical contact might not really be very British.

The only cringe-inducing moment followed a question about the two men's personal relationship so far. "I don't think I could compete with you at basketball," Brown said, as if the question might for one second have arisen in anyone's mind. "Maybe tennis," he added. "But I think you'd still be better." Obama chuckled. It all seemed very pleasant, and basically friendly: there was none of the joshing we have come to associate with George Bush. But it seems hard to imagine, given the scale of the current crisis, that anybody would have demanded more joshing.

Downing Street, presumably, will simply be happy that Brown, who is due to address the joint houses of Congress tomorrow, left the meeting looking marginally more statesmanlike than he went in - and that he avoided being upstaged by the Boy Scouts. (Or, for that matter, by a close former colleague - a certain Tony Blair - who, just a few blocks away in Washington, was giving a lecture on climate change today.)

The special relationship, it seemed reasonable to conclude after today, was just as it had been before - which is to say, semi-mythical, but not entirely imaginary. The leaders of the United States and Britain basically like each other. They share many of the same values. They might even enjoy a game of tennis one day. Now they just need to sort out the economy.